


A Dog for Deke

by stjarna



Series: Season 5 spec fics / coda / missing scenes [14]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, National Pet Day, fitzsimmons family, perthshire or bust, quite fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:04:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: The title really says it all. Fitzsimmons family fluff. (P.S. Fitzsimmons-heavy to be honest)





	A Dog for Deke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AGL03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/gifts).



> Big thank you to @lilsciencequeen for the quick beta.
> 
> For @AGL03, because she's been asking for a FitzSimmons give Deke a dog fic (and a lot of things in this fic, like the dog's name were inspired by her)

Jemma paused in the entrance to the lab, watching Fitz work, concentrating, his back facing the door, his body slightly hunched forward. Her lips pulled into a smile, reflexively, being reminded of how far they’d come since Fitz’s psychic split, the hardships they’d overcome, not just as a couple, but the team as a whole. She exhaled sharply, taking a step inside. “Hey.”

Fitz’s head turned around, the corners of his mouth ticking up when he caught sight of his wife. “Hey,” he replied quietly, taking off the magnifying glasses he’d been working with and setting them down on the workbench.

“What are you working on?” Jemma asked curiously as she walked closer.

Fitz turned halfway, allowing her to see his project. He gestured at the robotic arm lying on the workbench. “Upgrades for Elena.”

“Oh,” Jemma exclaimed excitedly, as she came to a halt next to her husband, leaning closer to inspect his handiwork. “That looks amazing.”

She looked back at Fitz, noticing how he shyly tried to avoid her eyes, his fingers scratching the skin below his ear. “Thanks,” he said quietly, before clearing his throat. “Do you need anything?”

Jemma paused, her heart suddenly beating faster as she remembered why she’d come to see him. “Well. I… I’ve been thinking,” she said, hearing a slight nervous tremor in her own voice.

Fitz’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

Jemma took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tight knot forming in her stomach. “I think we should leave S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Fitz stared at her in silence, his forehead still slightly wrinkled.

“I mean,” Jemma blurted out, the silence too deafening to bear. “We saved the world… _again_. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been reestablished… _again_. They’re recruiting new agents. The organisation is growing. Things are safer than they’ve been in a long time and—” She paused, attempting in vain to gauge Fitz’s expression, before shrugging. “I don’t know, I think we deserve to leave. We have done our part. Risked our lives more times than I wish to count.”

Jemma’s hands and eyes wandered to her flat stomach. She wasn’t showing yet. She couldn’t feel the baby move. And yet, she’d been feeling so very different. She looked back at her husband. “We’re starting a family, and while we still have many months to go, I’d much rather raise our daughter... well... _not_ on this base.”

The creases on Fitz’s forehead seemed to grow deeper, but still, he didn’t voice his opinion.

Jemma wet her lips, pressing them into a thin line while she waited in vain for Fitz to say something.

“Do you remember Perthshire?” she asked, wanting to move the conversation along.

Fitz chuckled weakly, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Yes, I know Perthshire. It’s in Scotland.”

Jemma tilted her head to one side, giving him a reprimanding look. “I didn’t mean if you knew what or where it is. I meant—”

Fitz stepped closer, the sudden movement causing Jemma to stop talking. He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I remember Perthshire,” he said softly, his tone letting her know that he was done teasing her and that he knew all too well what the one simple word entailed.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile. She slid her hands up Fitz’s chest, her fingers absentmindedly playing with his shirt collar. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?” she asked, gazing into his striking blue eyes. “Being back in the U.K.? Closer to your mum and my parents? Living in the countryside? A cottage? A big yard? A stonewall fence? A swing set? Fresh air? Peace and quiet. I mean all of that would be wonderful for our children but it could also be beneficial for your mental health, and mine for that matter.”

Fitz looked at her with gentle eyes and yet Jemma still couldn’t read his expression.

“And we could still work for S.H.I.E.L.D. in some capacity,” she continued, going down her mental list of convincing arguments. “Sort of like independent contractors. We could have a lab in the garage.”

Fitz scoffed in amusement. “Work on super secret spy projects in the Scottish countryside?”

Jemma rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a smile. “Well, who better than you to design a foolproof yet subtle security system for such a secret lab?” Her fingers curled around the back of his neck, gently massaging his muscles.

Fitz chuckled quietly, pulling her a bit closer as his eyes glazed over, seemingly contemplating her suggestion.

“And maybe we could find a place with one or two extra bedrooms?” Jemma suggested, optimistically. “I mean, for guests and… and Deke will need a place to stay.”

Fitz’s eyebrows briefly jolted up at the mention of their grandson, but he remained silent.

“He’s part of our family,” Jemma continued. “He needs a home. Someplace away from the Playground. I mean, yes, he has fond memories of growing up there as well, but so much of his life has been pure survival and hardship and loss and—” She paused, blinking away the tears gathering in her eyes. “Just think of all the horrible memories he has of that base. Why not give him a chance to experience a new kind of family life? Watch his mother grow up in a place that’s green and beautiful and—”

“You want Deke to live with us?” His tone remained neutral, impossible to interpret.

Jemma shrugged. “Well, he’s planning on seeing the world now that we prevented its destruction, so we may not see that much of him, but he needs a place to come home to?”

Fitz pursed his lips, before grinning almost mischievously. “He could watch his mother while his grandparents go into town for a date? Built-in babysitter.”

The smile spreading across Jemma’s face almost caused her cheeks to hurt. “See, I’m making a lot of excellent points for leaving, am I not?” Her expression grew more somber as she searched Fitz’s eyes for an answer. “What else can I say to convince you?”

A quiet puff of air escaped Fitz’s nose, one corner of his mouth ticking up. “I was convinced the moment you said ‘I think we should leave S.H.I.E.L.D.’” he admitted barely above a whisper.

“Really?” Jemma looked at her husband wide-eyed and hopeful.

Fitz nodded in silence. For a moment, they just gazed at each other, before they both leaned closer, sealing their decision with a kiss.

Somewhat reluctantly, Jemma broke the kiss for air, her fingers continuing to play with the curls at the back of Fitz’s neck, her eyes mesmerized by the way Fitz’s blue irises were looking back at her.

“And then we could get a dog,” he remarked suddenly.

“What?” Jemma furrowed her eyes in surprise.

“A dog… for—” Fitz seemed flustered, his eyes wide as if searching in panic for an explanation. “—for Deke, I mean,” he suddenly blurted out, before clearing his throat. “I mean, he’s never had a pet. He deserves a pet. As part of the whole ‘experiencing a better life’ thing.”

“Well, maybe, but—” Jemma pursed her lips, ticking her head to one side. She furrowed her brow. “—a dog? I mean, remember the other day when we went into town and this dog ran towards Deke wanting to be pet?” Jemma waved her hand to the side. “He bolted, screaming that the dog was going to eat him. I think maybe he’s afraid of dogs.”

Fitz took a step back, letting go off Jemma’s waist and pointing at her instead, a smile playing on his lips. “That was a 200-pound Great Dane the size of a horse! I mean admittedly, it was the sweetest dog I have ever met and I’m trying really hard not to laugh because our 30-year-old grandson ran away from it, but in his defense: that dog was massive and for someone with extremely limited exposure to pets, his reaction is maybe understandable and does not necessarily mean that he would be afraid of _all_ dogs.”

“Hmm.” Jemma crossed her arms in front of her chest, contemplating Fitz’s argument, before slightly shaking her head. “I still don’t know.” She paused, letting her mind wander for a moment, before gesturing at Fitz palm-up. “Maybe a cat would be a better choice.”

“Oh no! No, no, no.” Fitz’s index finger shot in Jemma’s direction. “Cats are evil and… and do I have to remind you about the last time you brought a cat into my life?”

Jemma gasped in annoyance, dropping her head back. “Oh not that stupid cat again.”

“You left its liver right next to my lunch,” Fitz yelled.

“Well, I obviously wouldn’t dissect our own pet and leave its organs lying around the house!” Jemma exclaimed just as loudly.

“Oh how very gracious of you!” Fitz barked back.

Jemma held Fitz’s angry stare, but just as quickly as their almost decade-old argument had flared up, their expressions softened.

“How about we let Deke choose what kind of pet he wants?” Jemma suggested.

“I really think he’s more of a dog person!”

Jemma chuckled, taking a step closer and wrapping her arms back around her husband’s neck. “You’re just saying that because _you_ want a dog.”

“No.” Fitz dug his fingers into his own chest, unable to keep from grinning. “ _I_ want a monkey, but you won’t let me have one, so—”

Jemma couldn’t help but laugh, before managing to compose herself. “Well, maybe a dog is not such a bad idea.”

A smile spread across Fitz’s face.

“But they’re a lot of work,” Jemma added, firmly.

Fitz shrugged. “Well, that’s why we’ll make it Deke’s dog! He can do the work.”

Jemma let out a quiet snort of amusement. “Well, we already established that Deke wants to travel and not all countries make it easy to bring along pets, so we would presumably have to be responsible for the dog on quite a few occasions.”

Fitz removed one of his hands from Jemma’s waist, gesturing at her and looking at her with wide-open eyes. “Well, you’ll be involved. This will be the best trained dog ever to be found. Won’t even know it’s there!”

Jemma ticked her head to one side. “Well, I’ll be a little busy growing a human being in my uterus.”

Fitz’s expression softened, the same way it always did whenever Jemma brought up her pregnancy. “I’ll help.”

“Oh, _you’ll_ be growing our baby in your uterus,” Jemma teased.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I meant.” Fitz grinned at her, before gently tugging her closer. “Come on. There is scientific evidence that owning a dog may have positive effects on children’s development and mental health, and some breeds… I mean, poodles are renowned for their intelligence and retrieving abilities! And they’re allergy friendly.”

“You don’t have a dog allergy.”

Fitz shrugged. “Maybe Deke does? Or his unborn mother?”

Jemma took a deep breath, letting their conversation run back through her mind. She exhaled sharply. “Deke will get to decide!” she said sternly. “ _He_ will decide if he would like a dog or a cat or a… rattlesnake.”

Fitz’s eyes widened in shock. “Could we please agree that he will _not_ get to choose a rattlesnake?”

Jemma laughed quietly. “Fine. Dog or cat or other appropriate animal. Deke will get to decide. Deke will get to choose said animal at the shelter. Deke will get to decide its name. It will be _his_ pet!”

Fitz bobbed his head. “Understood.”

Jemma let out a sigh of relief, her lips pulling into a contented smile. “Alright, so, I guess we will leave S.H.I.E.L.D., move to Perthshire or a comparable countryside location, preferably in the U.K., and get Deke a—”

“—dog” Fitz tried to add, but Jemma cut him off with a quick and stern “—pet!”

Fitz grinned back at her. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He paused, his eyes wandering side-to-side before landing back on Jemma. “So, you’re going to tell Coulson and the others?”

Jemma wrinkled her forehead, before a smile flashed across her face. “Roshambo?” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Fitz grimaced, fully aware of Jemma’s success rate at rock-paper-scissors.

* * *

* * *

Deke stared wide-eyed at the long corridor with dog kennels at the shelter. “They’re _all_ up for adoption?”

“Yes,” the shelter employee, Mark, replied politely.

“ _All_ of them?” Deke repeated, focus shifting in quick succession from Mark to the dogs and back again.

“Yes,” Mark replied, drawing the word out just a bit longer than strictly necessary and glancing in mild confusion at Jemma and Fitz.

Deke didn’t seem to notice the shelter employee’s reaction, as he wandered a few steps down the hallway, mesmerized by the various dogs in the row of kennels.

Jemma looked at Mark, putting on a friendly smile and pressing her palm against her chest. “You must excuse my—” She paused, losing her smile for a moment before pulling her lips wide again. “—my brother-in-law, but he’s never been to an animal shelter before. He and my husband were—” Once again she drew a blank for a split-second before her brain came up with an explanation. “They were separated at birth. Fraternal twins. Only very recently reunited. He’s lived an isolated life. In the United States of all places, poor thing. It’s a rather tragic and _almost_ unbelievable story,” she rattled down the scenario her mind had conjured up.

The shelter employee looked even more insecure now than he had before, but continued to smile politely, even though his facial expression looked anything but genuine.

“Mark?”

The shelter employee turned around at the sound of his name.

“Yes?” he asked.

His colleague waited by the door. “Could you come here for just a second?”

Mark’s eyes widened and he looked almost relieved. “Oh, yes, sure.” He looked at Jemma, adding a polite “I… I’ll be right back,” before heading towards his colleague.

“Of course,” Jemma called after him. “No worries at all. We’ll just look around. Very carefully of course.”

Jemma watched Mark leave, before turning back to see what Fitz and Deke were up to. She was greeted by Fitz’s wide-open and fiery eyes.

“Twin?” he growled through gritted teeth. “You made him my _twin_?”

“Well.” Jemma furrowed her brow, staring sternly back at her husband. “The three of us clearly came here together to get a dog… _together_ , so unless you want to suggest a polyamorous relationship—”

Fitz’s eyes doubled in size. “No. No, I do not want to suggest that.”

Jemma lifted her shoulders. “A blood relationship was the only other option I could think of, and not even a lie, but I could hardly say he is our grandson. And you and Deke share far more physical resemblance.”

Fitz raised his hands, pressing his fingers together. “Roommates! You could have said we’re roommates.”

“Well, I didn’t think of that,” Jemma barked back defensively.

Fitz sighed, running his fingers through his hair and looking at her apologetically. “Fine. Fraternal twin brothers. Separated at birth.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe he bought that.”

Jemma shrugged. “Well, I think sometimes when you hear a rather unbelievable story but questioning it would make a situation even more uncomfortable, people tend to just roll with it and not ask any further questions.”

“Hey, look at this one!”

Jemma and Fitz both looked at where Deke was crouching down in front of one of the kennels.

Jemma’s eyes widened, her heart beating nervously. She raised her hands in a soothing gesture. “Remember what we talked about, Deke: present the back of your hand first as a cautious greeting!”

Deke grinned proudly, nodding in understanding as he allowed the dog to sniff the back of his hand.

Fitz and Jemma stepped closer, Fitz tucking his hands in his pockets, while Jemma began absentmindedly stroking her protruding stomach.

Fitz looked at the dog in the kennel, a multi-colored mix of sorts, with lengthy fur and big brown eyes. His eyes wandered to the sign attached next to the door with the dog’s basic information.

“Sir Lancelot?” He furrowed his brow. “Why would they name such a scrappy little thing Sir Lancelot?”

Deke looked up, his lips pulled into a wide smile. “Oh, I like that.”

Fitz stared back at his grandson in confusion. “Like what?”

“Scrappy.”

Fitz gestured at the dog in the kennel. “You like the scrappy dog?”

“No.” Deke shook his head before halting his movement. “I mean _yes_. But, that’s a great name.”

Fitz’s eyes widened. “Scrappy?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes, look at him?” Deke’s gaze wandered back to the dog. He held out his hand, waiting for the dog to nudge it, before petting its head through the chain link fence. “He’s totally a Scrappy!”

Fitz crouched down next to Deke, extending his own hand in the dog’s direction, who began licking Fitz’s fingers.

“Suppose it’s better than Sir Lancelot,” Fitz remarked matter-of-factly.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile at the scene, when a sudden realization hit her. “Wait, are you two saying—?”

“I want that one,” Deke announced with conviction, confirming Jemma's suspicion.

Jemma gestured down the hallway. “But you haven’t even looked at all the others yet.”

Deke shook his head. “Don’t have to. He… He’s a FitzSimmons-Shaw. I can tell. Trust me.”

“So, how are we doing?” Mark’s voice suddenly piped up, causing Jemma to jump slightly in surprise.

“Well.” She glanced back at Fitz and Deke, who were both grinning pleadingly at her. “I believe my husband and his brother would like to learn more about Sir Lancelot and discuss the possibility of adopting him.”

“Scrappy. His name is Scrappy,” Deke interjected.

Jemma sighed, smiling almost apologetically at the shelter employee. “Or, you can just draw up the adoption papers, I’ll follow you to the office to finalize things, while these two start bonding with our new dog.”

Mark still hadn’t quite lost his constant state of confusion around the three visitors to the animal shelter, but as usual, he smiled politely at Jemma, rubbing his hands together. “Well, I will say that Sir Lancelot—”

“Scrappy!” Fitz and Deke exclaimed in unison, causing Mark to flinch.

“ _Scrappy_ ,” the shelter employee corrected himself, “is a very good dog,” he concluded his sentence.

“He sure seems to be,” Jemma remarked, looking lovingly at her husband and grandson before following Mark to sign the adoption papers.


End file.
